Page 63 of Lessons in Heartbreak

She fixed me with a fierce glare, which I ignored. “What did you say your name was?” Lauren asked slowly.

He held her gaze, finishing off the last bit of his funnel cake. “You heard me.”

The sexual tension was thick, and I cleared my throat. “Well, I think I’ll leave you two to it,” I said breezily.

Kenny came jogging up, halting my departure. “We have a slight problem. Our next two volunteers for the dunk tank can’t come. It was the mayor and the chief of police. They were going to be our biggest draws for tickets for that game.”

I blew out a short, harsh breath. “Okay. What happened?”

“Mayor Briggs is sick, and the chief had an emergency. Not sure what.”

Mind racing, I wiped a hand over my forehead. “Okay, um ... We can figure this out. We need people who will bring in a lot of tickets.”

“Marcus can do it,” Lauren said smoothly.

My eyebrows shot up, gaze darting over to the man in question. “Pardon?”

Marcus was grinning at Lauren, his eyes practically shining. “Can I?”

“Oh yes. Didn’t you say you had to convince your friend to come with you? Assuming you two are coworkers,” she added meaningfully.

“I am so lost,” I whispered.

Kenny seemed to notice who we were talking to, his eyes widening. “Holy shit.”

My head swiveled in his direction. “What’s wrong with you?”

Kenny’s mouth dropped open, and he pointed weakly at Marcus.

Marcus nodded slowly. “Wearecoworkers. And I think I’ll agree to that—on one condition.” He gripped the side of the booth and stared down my friend. “You go out with me after the fair is done tonight.”

My eyes bounced between them. “What is going on right now? Why do we want Marcus to do the dunk tank? Who’s your friend?”

Marcus never took his eyes off Lauren. “He’s at the booth next door. Wasting all his money on some rigged shooting game because he saw a stuffed bird and said he needed to win it for a friend.”

Angling myself for a better view, I looked past Marcus at the shooting game, a surprised squeak coming from my mouth before I could stop it.

Griffin freaking King stood with a BB gun against his shoulder, his unwavering focus aimed at the small metal targets as they shuffled back and forth. He was wearing a fitted white T-shirt and black athleticshorts today, which hugged the curves of his ass in a way that made it genuinely hard to look at anything else.

“You’re ...” I blinked. Blinked again. “You’re on the team with Griffin?”

He nodded. “You know him?”

Lauren laughed. I swallowed hard. “Uh-huh.”

Marcus’s eyes sharpened. “You’re the friend.”

My gaze was not willing to be parted from the sight of Griffin handing over another fistful of cash so he could start the game again. Even from this distance, I could hear theplink, plink, plinkof the small metal balls hitting the rusty targets. “I ... Sure. Yes. I’m his friend.”

“Interesting,” he said smoothly. “We might need to trade some stories, young lady. He said you knew him when he was young. Was he horrible? You can tell me.”

Griffin finally got the last of the targets down, smiling at the small smattering of applause that came from the crowd gathered around him. He handed the gun back to the volunteer and pointed at one of the stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling of the booth.

After a nod to the volunteer, he tucked the massive plush under his arm, and my heart thudded erratically when he turned in our direction. Our eyes locked, and his smile deepened.

Oh boy.

This was not good.

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